


The System only dreams in total darkness

by americanwriter



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Metro thoughts, Oneshot, Shaw's POV, or drabble, shoot, subway station
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americanwriter/pseuds/americanwriter
Summary: And somewhere in between their silent battle, there was Root. A dark shape, a connection; the true and the false, two worlds colliding, a thousand different traits - all combined into one whole, just as if everything was part of a plan or an arrangement.





	The System only dreams in total darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Some more of Shaw's POV. It originally was meant to be somewhat of an analytical view rather than a romantic one since she struggles with feeling so much but there is some feel in it. Just randomly set at the time they already have the Metro Station safehouse. The exception mentioned refers to my previous oneshot "Distant Embraces". Work title borrowed from a The National song.

You have lost count of how may times you've asked yourself if she ever really sleeps. Or rests. Or dreams. There had only been one exception, when she was wounded, when rest seemed more important than usually, yet it's the usual, the everyday you're pondering about as you enter the subway station and your gaze finds the familiar silhouette sitting at the desk. 

You've done lots of research down here, passed the entrance on more than a hundred occasions, but for the first time you noticed the cold, blue computer screen light crashing into the warm, yellowish, dim shine of the subway station. And somewhere in between their silent battle, there was Root. A dark shape, a connection; the true and the false, two worlds colliding, a thousand different traits - all combined into one whole, just as if everything was part of a plan or an arrangement. 

Well, it somehow was. The Machine originally arranged the subway safehouse.

Maybe there was a technical aspect in the desk's placement... near a power source, positioned in a specific angle, so that there would be enough time for a last minute back up in case the station was uncovered by the wrong people. Despite it all you're not sure the artificial intelligence had a sense, built in or developed, for beauty or metaphors... for a long time you weren't even sure you did; or if those terms fitted all of the thoughts running through your mind this very second, and the thoughts from all of the past seconds, minutes, hours, days, months.

She moves a bit when something pops up on the screen, slightly varying the brightness and the way it illuminates her face. The darker light reveals more details, it lets you see clearer, more reinforced. Sometimes, maybe, you wish you could hold her again. You know she does too. You'd never let her win, you'd never give her the satisfaction to let her know that there was something _unspoken_ hovering between the two of you. As soon as you crave her touch, the stronger, colder side in you crushes the need immediately, tries to eliminate it, destroy it.

But it keeps coming back. It's not giving up. Maybe because it isn't given up.

You realize that the only time she'd be able to really sleep, rest and dream was when The Machine did too. And _it_ only does once in a lifetime, at a complete and utter nationwide power outage... in total darkness.


End file.
